Writing on the Wall
by GraceKelly1
Summary: This story tells about the development of the relationship between James Bond and M, whom I made much younger than she was in the film. She wasn't married and has another name (in real life). James Bond will again have to fight a terrorist who dreams of capturing the world. Post Skyfall.


_It wasn't me who invented the characters. This story came to me after reading the TemporaMores Endurance fanfiction. The first chapter has some similiarities with it. This is my first attempt to write a fanfic, so criticism and comments are welcome.)_

 _This story tells about the development of the relationship between James Bond and M, whom I made much younger than she was in the film. She wasn't married and has another name (in real life). James Bond will again have to fight a terrorist who dreams of capturing the world. Post Skyfall._

 **Chapter 1.**

Consciousness slowly returned to her. The squeaking sound ... beep ... beep ... beep ... cut ears. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at the white ceiling, then began to inspect the room.

A single room, typical hospital walls, painted in a typical hospital colour.

In the left hand was a dropper, on the right all the same squeaked apparatus.

In the far corner, near the door, she noticed a chair where sat Bond, who bent over. It was interesting how long he was here, and how long she was unconscious.

The pictures flashed in her head. Skyfall, she was wounded in leg, Kincaid and she made their way to the old church, while Bond fired back from Silva's people. Then the house exploded, and then ... then Silva was already in the church, trying to shoot them both. It was great that there was Bond, who still killed him. Further events turned into a continuous fog. She remembered only the pain in her leg, which drowned everything else, herself in Bond's arms and his blue eyes. This was the last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness.

And now she is here, in the hospital room. She tried to move, but it was difficult to do. She did not feel pain, apparently she was on painkillers. She pushed away the blanket urgently in order to look at her leg. It was applied a bandage on the thigh. She wanted to try to get up, but she did not succeed, there was almost no strength. She tried somehow to pull the blanket back, but it was unbearable for her, it seemed that she was moving not a blanket, but a pile of stones. When she managed to put the blanket back, she gave a tired groan. It was enough for a man at the door to move and wake up.

A moment later, Bond was already standing by the bed, staring at her worriedly.

\- M ... finally you regained consciousness, how are you feeling?

He looked very worried, and very worn out. Not less than a three-day bristle, bruises under his eyes, wrinkled clothes. How long was he here?

She opened her mouth in order to answer, but her words did not go, her throat was dry. He handed her a glass of water, which stood on the nightstand and gave her a drink through a straw.

\- Thank you, - she said softly. How long have I been here, and how long have you been here, Bond?

\- Three days you were unconscious. I'll call a doctor.

He turned around to leave, but she stopped him.

\- Bond ... - he turned around - it will wait, stay, -she asked.

Bond came to the bed again.

\- Tell me what happened afterwards - she looked into his eyes and knew that he would understand.

\- You lost consciousness, by this time Mallory arrived with help. They transported you here by helicopter to the medical center MI6. You lost a lot of blood, there was an operation - he paused, as if trying to find the words - in the operating room, your heart stopped twice. Three days without consciousness and now we're talking, said Bond wearily.

\- And you've been here all this time? I hope you managed to undergo a medical examination, Bond? - the boss took over, even now, lying on a hospital bed, she could not get rid of the habit of command.

Although looking at him, she already knew the answer, judging by his appearance, he spent all three days in her room. She relented.

\- How bad is it?

\- Nothing serious, it could be worse. Maybe a couple of broken ribs, bruises and abrasions.

She knew that he had been in worse situations, and if he spent three days here, then there were no injuries to life threatening, but it was worth it to be sure.

Show me, she said insistently.

\- I beg your pardon? Bond looked a little lost.

\- I said show me, I do not want to cause the death of my best agent in the future, only because he could not reach the reception desk for three days and ask for a doctor's examination. Take off your shirt.

He smiled slyly.

\- M, if you wanted to see me without a shirt, you can just ask me about it."

\- I will keep it in mind," said M irritably.

But when he took off his jacket and shirt, the irritation immediately evaporated. The whole right side of the torso was blue and violet, which meant that Bond was right, the rib was broken, and probably not the only one.

She became sad and hurt. It was her fault. It was one thing when he was injured during a mission, it was his job. But now ... it was her fault, he defended her, risked her life for her, not for the country and the Queen ... but for her.

M scattered, stretched out her hand and touched the bruised places, apparently without even realizing her actions. Bond shuddered and she, as if waking up, withdrew her hand.

Awareness suddenly struck her. She had just touched her half-naked agent. It was a mistake, it was unprofessional. She looked up at him and saw that he was watching her intently.

\- I'm sorry 007 ... - sorry for hurting or for touching, she did not know what she was apologizing for.

\- It does not hurt - suddenly hesitating, he answered, still looking into her eyes.

M was uncomfortable with his piercing gaze.

\- 007, please go to the doctor, let him examine you, said M wearily and closed her eyes.

She heard as he dressed up and then coming to the door.

\- 007? She called him as he was already opening the door.

He turned around and stared at her.

\- Thank you.

\- Ma'am ... He nodded and went out the door.


End file.
